Sex In Your 30s

Sex In Your 30s: It Isn't What You Think

This is the moment we, as men, dread like a looming anvil in a cartoon. Maybe you’re drunk (I was), or maybe condoms make it tough for you (they do for me), or maybe you’re just a little anxious (no comment). But, Jesus, this never happened when I was 20.

My biggest concern then was whether I knew what I was doing, not if I was up to the task. Somewhere along the way, in a cruel twist of fate, the experience I racked up in the bedroom got subverted by my changing (OK, ageing) body.

Look, I have sex regularly. But, like in most sports, just because you’ve trained your whole life doesn’t mean your body gives a sh*t about all your effort. That sound you hear is the horn blaring as your sexual train pulls in to the station called your 30s.

The first time I had sex with my last serious girlfriend, things went badly. No need to share too much detail with you. Suffice it to say that it was the first time I was confronted with anything other than a smooth ride. I don’t mean to say that every single time we 30-somethings find ourselves fortunate enough to be naked with a woman, the stakes are hyper-elevated. That’s not a fair rule of thumb. But I do suggest that you may find yourself in some particular situations that you would never have fathomed you'd be in when you were 10 years younger.

But what really changes?

I’m still as psyched as ever for that moment when the pants are undone and it’s showtime. I still embrace the same perversions I used to have. But it takes a lot more effort to keep yourself in the game. You need energy to get there, stamina to keep things there and creativity to make her believe you belong there. What these requirements have in common is that they are all things you take for granted in your early sexual exploits. The mere fact that you were getting sex at all was enough to carry you through all of them. Like a dog, you devoured that treat without so much as a second thought as to where it came from.

Here’s the rub, though: We are not dogs; we are men. And after years of banging on sheer instinct, we learn lessons. Our experiences stay with us and define us. And whether we like it or not, each one of those sexual conquests or misfires come to form our sexual personas. The personas can bring baggage. That combined with our physical alterations (why does hair get thinner as we get thicker?) ensure that our bedroom activities are vastly different from what they used to be.

I can’t say for certain what my record for consecutive "completions" was, but I can say with absolute, 100 f*cking percent certainty that I was never not up to the task. I am still up for it daily — possibly hourly. But it is more a question of the lengthening time gaps between sessions. I once spent all day with a girl 10 years younger than me, and we had a marathon session. It still wasn't enough to curb her appetite. I was still asked to go another round, and I just wanted a nap and glass of water. And maybe a bath.

Stamina just isn't the same in your 30s. I'm sure tonnes of guys will read this and say that they are still killing it in the bedroom and that I'm some sort of weaker man. But those guys are missing my point. Change happens. But it's how you adapt to it that is the true test of a man. I am passing that test.

Nothing works better than sports metaphors to bring home a point on sex. No fighter maintains the same ranking throughout his career. You aren’t a rookie forever, and one day, you wake up and you’re the veteran. You’re a seasoned pro who has seen it all and knows all the angles. The new kids will challenge you, and some of them will even steal your thunder or slander your name to get that title belt. In this case, young assholes will have twice the energy and all the time in the world to talk their sh*t to get the girl. But when they get her in the "ring," they are so fired up they can’t think straight.

In your 30s, you will be thinking a little more than them, even if you have less steam. Last week I gave a girl three orgasms in an hour and slept like a champ. So did she. That may not happen next time, but I’m in this game for the long haul, not a flash in the pan. And a real pro rolls with the punches and gets back in there.